Isms
by LynnFox
Summary: I am synoptically handicapped, bear with me... Multichapter fic post season 3 finale. What is worse than death? How will Alex handle everything being taken away from her? Alex/Piper, from angst to romance. Okay, see, my synopsis sucks, just read it.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello dear readers! This is my very first fic in this fandom. I've had quite some experience in other fandoms but finding your way with new characters is always a challenge. I was heartbroken by the end of season three and I've got loads of stories going on in my mind right now that will give me some sort of satisfaction. But for now, I'll start with a post-finale fic. My goal is to write multiple chapters and see where the story takes me. I hope you'll enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. If they did, well, let's not get into that too much. A big shout out of thanks to Jenji for creating such beautiful in depth characters.**

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PROLOGUE

She was right. She had known she was right up from the very first moment she had set foot back in Litchfield. Hell she had known from the moment she testified against Him that she had put herself at risk. She had known she was taking a chance by doing that but she also knew he had to be stopped.

Because even though she herself had had a fair amount of time to do behind bars, Piper would be out in the world and up for grabs in a relatively short time. Having His cartel exposed when she went down and took all those people with her… she knew that He would be holding a grudge and she knew that He knew how to get back at her. He would go after those that she loved. The only one that she loved. Piper. So she had had to try and stop Him.

Him.

His.

He.

Him.

It was almost like talking about Him was talking about God. Not that she ever saw Him as God – more as the devil himself – but He was almost as untouchable and omnipotent as the real Him, or so He'd like to think.

Kubra. His name was Kubra. She would no longer give him the satisfaction of not naming him. She wouldn't let him know she feared him that much, although she knew that he knew his power to overwhelm, to terrify, to send his victims over the edge with sublime fear.

Aydin was standing in front of her. A mere few feet away. And in that moment she realised that she had been right all along. There had been no escaping him. She had just sought in the wrong places. She should have known that there would always be the element of surprise. He had succeeded. But in that moment she had no real fear. Just the soothing calm of ultimate surrender. She just didn't care that much anymore. The things she had fought for, she had lost. She had realised so only a few days ago. Although she loved Piper more than even her own life – she was sure of that now, in this instance – there had been no real retribution. There was no doubt in her mind that Piper needed her, had needed her from the moment they had met. There was no doubt that Piper had cared about her a lot. But it hadn't been the deep heart-tugging love that she herself had felt from the moment that Piper had won her over.

That she still felt now.

"So he sent you to do it?" she heard herself asking, "I should have known that he would sent someone close to him."

"Of course he sent me. He trusts me."

She let out a humourless laugh. "Trusts you? He doesn't trust anyone. Only himself."

Aydin sent her a menacing glare. "He trusts me."

"Right," she smirked, "well, how were you planning to do it. Choke me with the pepper spray? Stab me with a broken rake? If you search this place you will probably find one or two shanks. Need a hand?" She sounded so much braver than she felt.

This was it then. This would be the end to her pathetic excuse for a life. At least she had travelled, seen the world, neglect the circumstances. At least she had outgrown the poverty that had been her youth. Thanks to her father. Or well… At least she had known what it was to love and be loved. Once, just that once. Piper. She would have given it all to have gotten to have known her in a different time and place, a different setting. Although then maybe – no, probably – she wouldn't have gotten to know her at all. She wouldn't have appealed to her as much as she had being the strong one, the mysterious one, the hot one.

She had tricked Piper into falling in love with a woman that wasn't real, had never been real. Once she had shown her true colours, her fears, she had lost her.

All of these thoughts chased each other through her mind in a matter of seconds.

She held his gaze for this time and gently squared her shoulders. _Let's get this over with. Make the pain go away._ She had nothing to lose anymore. She had lost it all.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Words that should have somehow felt comforting had the exact opposite effect. _Not going to kill me? Why?_

The answer came shortly.

"You're going to live. Under my watch. And you can't go anywhere. I'm going to watch you and everything you do. Like a hawk. I'll know anything you do and everyone you do it with. Nothing will go by me. I'll know your visitations, I'll know how you'll do your job, I'll know what you have for dinner, I'll know which of these women around here mean anything to you, I'll write you up and put you in solitary whenever I feel like it. And you will slowly go insane with the thought of impending death until you will beg me to put an end to it." His gaze was dark. Dark and crazy. And bizarrely calm. "And the thing is Alex, that there is nothing you can do about it. Because you're an inmate and no one would believe you."

She gasped as the gravity of the situation dawned on her. She would be singled out. By him. He would know everything there was to know about her and use that information against her. Probably not just against her. Kubra knew she was here and he also knew who was inside here with her. Piper. God damnit Piper.

"Ah yes," he sighed, "I see that you have come to the right conclusion. You're not safe. She's not safe. None of them are safe and I'd better not catch you trying to warn them because like you said; if I search this place I'd probably find enough shanks to take all of those bitches away from you. One by one. Until you're the last one left, Alex."

He turned on his heels and walked back to the door. "I'll know when you've told anyone. Snitch." And with that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 1: Dualism

**A/N: I can imagine you are wondering about the title of this story. I tend to give my stories quite strange and symbolic titles. This one, 'Isms', has to do with the suffix –ism. The chapters will have names that you can add '-ism' to, i.e. dualism, which is the name of this first chapter.**

 **I'd like to again point out that these characters are not mine. I just like to write down my sparked fantasies and I hope you enjoy reading them.**

 **Thank you for the reviews, I love reading them. Also, do not fear giving me feedback. I don't currently have a beta, having you being critical makes me thrive.**

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 **Chapter 1: Dualism**

 ** _Dualism_** _  
_ _n._ _\- State of being dual or twofold; a twofold division; any system which is founded on a double principle, or a twofold distinction_ _  
_ _n._ _\- A view of man as constituted of two original and independent elements, as matter and spirit._ _  
_ _n._ _\- A system which accepts two gods, or two original principles, one good and the other evil._

She thought herself brave for going through the agony on her own accord. She had heard before that the ribs were one of the most sensitive spots. It was why she picked that spot to put her infinity symbol. Close to her heart, hurtful, like everything infinite was bound to be. A cliché. Such bullshit. Stella hadn't known her, had had no clue. She had no idea what it was like to lose yourself in the hurricane of someone else's life. Piper did.

A big flurry in black and white. Pushing her to grab hold and be swept of her feet. No means to escape because the suction would pull her right back in. She lost everything in that. Her mind, her soul and eventually her love. Until she found herself in the eye of that hurricane and all had gone still. It had been her only means to escape. Flee. Run as fast as her legs could carry her because she couldn't live on love alone. Couldn't live in the fear anymore, needed to run, no more chances. Run. Go back to the life cut out for her. The life she was destined for. The life she knew she should lead, was expected to lead, with no fear, just quiet. The calm after the storm.

But the hurricane had left a mess in its wake, had pulled her from who she had been, or maybe had ripped the roof off, leaving her exposed and fearful.

That which should have been her safe haven was gone. Anything she had ever been sure of, that had been her protection had been shaken and rattled, seemed alien now. She didn't recognise the house that was her body, couldn't look in the mirror anymore without wondering who was staring back at her. How was she supposed to know how to love?

She had left the hurricane, had left that personification of the storm, and she didn't believe she belonged anywhere anymore.

Her parents got her back on her feet. Reminded her what her home, her mind, was supposed to look like. Reminded her what her foundations were like and how it never got her in trouble and supposedly made her happy. Reminded her that living in truth would only expose you, carve your skin up, hurt you.

It was better to dream through life than live the dream. It was better to create a version of yourself, a hologram of sorts, which would line up with the world. It was better to colour inside the lines set out for you than walking them and losing balance. What had walking the line ever brought her? Fear, anxiety, love. But love was quite overrated. The truth was overrated. So she had buried that, like she was taught from early age. Bury it, burn it, leave it behind and go on with her life.

Until she faced the hurricane again on her first day back in Litchfield.

She lost herself again, had been overcome with fear again. Fear of losing anything she had been building for ten years. The colours between the lines had faded instantly and she had been back to black and white and all those different shades of grey. Bloody fingernails for trying to get a hold, onto anything. Anything secure in this fucked up place, this entirely different world. Latching onto the only thing within reach, trying to find that centre of the hurricane again.

She had tumbled back into love, caught in the crossfire, feeling bare and exposed but _feeling_. And it had scared her beyond wits. Not being able to stand still, stripped naked, literally. Alex. Larry. Alex. Larry.

God she had to hold onto Larry. Make sense of the world again. Convincing herself that she was not gay. Because the truth was overrated and it hadn't ever brought her anything. Clawing back to that sense of security, the hologram that she had created. Back to happiness because she had convinced herself that she preferred the quiet sunshine over storm and being behind these walls had made her lose every sense of self. Clawing, crawling back to the hurricane because it was familiar and in some crazy way safe. Then back out of it again because she was raised to be the good girl.

So, so scared.

It had gotten worse and it was all she could do to grab on to something, anything, believing that finding the ride buoy would save her from the storm. Drowning, drowning when she had to let go.

She had convinced herself that it had been the right thing to do, having Polly call Davy Crocket, for Alex. She couldn't let her go, let her storm off and leave her with the rubble once again. She had spent all her time convincing that it was Alex who left her with the rubble the first time, not recognising the fact that it had been her own choice. And she was drowning, suffocating without the storm that was her buoy. She needed to hold on. Her lifejacket had been taken off by the storm and her head was under water and she could not _fucking_ breathe without her.

She needed the storm. The thunder. The oxygen. She needed her back and she claimed what was rightfully hers because she wouldn't be able to breathe without her, body and mind aching, going numb.

But what she got back was not what she had signed up for. Wind laying low, trembling, shaking, nothing to lift her out of the water. She fucking loved her, needed her, breathed her, but it was slowly suffocating her and pulling her down with it.

On some level she knew Alex was probably right. That she had taken away her only chance of survival by pulling her back behind those walls. But she couldn't bear the thought. She couldn't bear the guilt, pulling her back under water with no buoy. She needed air to breathe, needed to punish herself for having chased down the storm and killing it.

She wasn't worthy of Alex's love anymore, she had never been, but she knew Alex would never let her go. She was too forgiving. Too kind. And she couldn't bear the idea that Alex would one day realise that it was in fact her – Piper – who was the hurricane. She had to let her go, kick her away before being kicked away. For Alex. No. For her. Because she was so, so scared. So she did the worst thing she could imagine. Convincing Alex that she didn't really know her after all, even though she realised that Alex was probably the only one in the whole world who knew who she was, even if she didn't know herself. She set up a different hologram, built on the darkest corners of her soul.

Setting her free.

There was no fucking cliché in that infinity symbol. Because she couldn't fucking get rid of her. She was everywhere, always, and she would always love her, and she would have to remind herself of that. Because she was losing herself again in creating something that was nothing like her. She didn't know who she was anymore. The voices in her head were arguing too much, pulling on her mind to make her something she was not. Or maybe she was. She was Jeckyll or Hide and Piper was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
